


Where All Love Is

by reasonswhy



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reasonswhy/pseuds/reasonswhy
Summary: Felicity has lived in Starling City long enough to know there's a litany of not-so-awesome things in the Glades—pickpockets, gangs, murderers—but shereallyisn't counting on having to add “portal to another century” to that list.





	Where All Love Is

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not entirely sure what happened here, but it’s sort of a cross between _Outlander_ and Robin Hood (and Arrow, obviously). Title is from _Outlander_ : For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary.

As Felicity treks through what feels like an endless sea of trees, her heels in hand, she can admit that, in retrospect, she _probably_ shouldn’t have touched the glowing wall at the end of the alley. She still maintains that her current situation is mostly Ray’s fault, but she can accept that some of the blame rests on her shoulders. She doesn't have to like it, but she can accept it. 

Because, sure, she doesn't spend a ton of time in the heart of the Glades, but everyone in Starling City knows that taking detours down dark streets isn't exactly a smart thing to do. But she had been on her way back to her apartment, and the fastest way to get there was to cut straight through the Glades. She’d gotten just _slightly_ lost—not even _completely_ lost, since she's pretty sure there had been a Big Belly Burger a few streets away—and one ill-advised left turn later, she’d found herself staring down an alley that dead-ended into a wall that was, well, glowing.

If she’d been in a more settled state of mind, she would have hightailed it the other way, made it to her apartment unscathed, climbed into her favorite panda pajamas, and brought out the mint chocolate chip. But she had felt so frazzled—this is the part she feels comfortable blaming on Ray—that she had tiptoed down the alley in her favorite black Mary Janes and placed a hand on the wall. For science. 

There had been a rushing sound, like she’d somehow gotten stuck in a wind tunnel without the wind. And then a pull in her stomach. And then she had tumbled forward, but instead of hitting the ground, she had flown through … through time, through space, through _something_. When she had opened her eyes, she’d been standing in a clearing, surrounded by green _._ The color was everywhere. Tall grass and taller trees and none of the familiar gray buildings that lined the streets of Starling like monochromatic soldiers. No one had answered when she called; there were no landmarks or signs of human life or any clues as to where she was. Walking had seemed like the best idea at the time; maybe she would stumble across a glowing tree that would take her back to her life. Or maybe she would wake herself up by walking, since this had to be a dream. Because a person didn’t just _launch themselves through time_ because they were curious enough to touch a glowing wall.

So that's why, what feels like years later but is probably closer to twenty minutes, she's still walking through that world of green. She can't say for sure how long it's been because her phone shattered when she tumbled into wherever she is. Not having access to the outside world is making her jittery, but she's thankful it had been her phone and not her glasses that had broken. Not being able to see would have been more than she could have handled. (And she thinks, all things considered, that she's handling herself pretty admirably.) And besides, it's just as well that she doesn't have a working phone, since Felicity knows she wouldn’t have reception.

And she still has no idea what the hell Ray had been thinking. You were supposed to _talk_ about your future with someone—not simply decide on something and spring a family heirloom on them in the middle of a fancy restaurant. (She's still getting used to the fact that Ray's from the sort of family that _has_ family heirlooms—all she has are her mom’s favorite earrings, which, while very cute, are not real diamonds.) Besides, she _hates_ fancy restaurants. The white tablecloths and the too-formal waiters and the noticeable lack of grease on the food. It's not that Felicity wants to be proposed to in a Big Belly Burger—it's just that, well, she’d probably have been more comfortable if he’d pulled out a ring there. If nothing else, the fries would have lulled her into a more agreeable mood.

But instead she’d had the fish because Ray recommended it, and she’d been exhausted from a long day at work, and a longer week, and the knowledge that her mother was getting into town tomorrow—and oh, God, had he talked to her _mom_ about this? Is Donna expecting a phone call from her daughter announcing her engagement? There's no way. Surely her mom would have accidentally let something slip when they’d talked earlier this week. But if Donna _is_ expecting a phone call, she has to be worried since Felicity has gone radio silent and will be, for the foreseeable future, unreachable.

_Frack. Frack, frack, frack._

She's about to say it out loud for good measure—she thinks it might make her feel a little bit better—when a small sound from somewhere behind her makes her freeze. She isn't sure why she notices; it isn't exactly quiet out here, with birds chirping and the wind whistling through the trees. But Felicity turns slowly, calling out a tentative, “Hello?”

Silence stretches for a long moment before a rustle of leaves draws her attention. She's made it to a less dense part of the forest, and there's a man standing across from her, maybe ten feet away. The light has started to fade, and the shadows have started to grow, and he must have been following her without her realizing.

The man is tall, with dark hair and a thick beard and a patch covering one eye. He's wearing some sort of dark colored tunic, with pants fitted into tall boots. But it isn't his appearance that feels intimidating—it's presence, that he somehow seems to _loom._ Even with the distance between them, Felicity wants nothing more than to step back in an attempt to lessen the intensity of his gaze. Instead, the man steps closer, and this time, she can't hold back a flinch because yep, that is a giant sword strapped to his back.

“Um, hi?” she tries again, and her voice sounds even more hesitant this time. “Maybe you could help me? I’m a little lost?”

Everything keeps coming out as a question, and damn it, are you supposed to admit to strangers that you're lost? Maybe Felicity should be acting like she has every right to be wandering through this godforsaken forest, like she's the type of person who just loves the outdoors and wants to trek through strange, overgrown parts of it. And Felicity knows that she should be afraid, but for whatever reason her fear feels like an afterthought. Instead, she's  _annoyed_. It's just her luck to be flung through the fourth dimension and end up having to face down Creepy McLurker. Aren't displaced heroines usually stumbling upon some handsome, hunky hero who feels obligated to help the lost woman and—

“Does the Hood know you’re in his woods?” His mouth curls up in a facsimile of a smile; there's no warmth to be found in the curve of his lips. 

Yeah, the whole _I’m lost and no one else is here to help me_ thing had probably been a mistake. The fear she's managed to hold at bay comes rushing in at full force. She's alone, in a strange world that feels so painfully unfamiliar to her. No one back in Starling will have any idea what's happened to her, and anywhere they'll think to look won't lead them to a glowing wall in an alley. She's on her own, save for a man she doesn't think has particularly noble motives.

He takes another step forward, and this time, Felicity retreats. She stumbles back, dropping her heels, and feels the rough bark of a tree dig into her back. She's wearing a dress, for god’s sake, a black strappy thing that she had worn because Ray never takes her anywhere that doesn't have at least an unspoken dress code. She shivers, and tells herself it's because her coat is in a puddle at the back of an alley that feels a million miles away—and might actually be so.

The man advances again, prowling toward her with a look that makes Felicity want to shut her eyes. She keeps them open, though, needing as much information about her situation as humanly possible. “I don’t know who the Hood is,” she says, feeling the words bubble up like they always do. “But I’m not trying to trespass, or anything. I’m definitely _not_ a trespasser. Like I said, I’m just not entirely sure where I am, and I wanted to find a city or a town, or someone who might be able to help me and—”

The words trail off and she sucks in a breath when the man closes the last of the distance between them and grips her shoulders with two hands. “Who are you to him?” he asks.

She has no idea who the Hood is, or what he does in these woods that make them his, or how he knows this man, but she gets the idea that the two of them aren't exactly bosom buddies. She swallows dryly, trying to guess at an answer that will give her the best chance at making it out of this alive. Nothing seems too promising at this point, given what she's thinking of as the giant knife dilemma.

It isn't until the arrow hits the tree a few inches above her head that Felicity realizes someone else is in the clearing. She lets out a sharp yelp, and before the sound has completely left her mouth, another arrow whizzes into sight. This time, it hits the man’s shoulder. She knows it isn't fatal, but it  _is_ an annoyance; it's enough that the man drops his grip and Felicity manages to scramble sideways. 

She nearly trips over her Mary Janes as she edges away from her assailant and toward the new arrival. She has no reason to believe the new person is on her side, and is, most likely, jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, but she has the strangest feeling the first arrow had been a warning, that it was never intended to hit her, or even come close.

“Slade.” The word comes out as a growl, low and menacing. Felicity doesn't need long to realize this must be the Hood. (The whole _wearing a hood_ thing clues her in pretty quickly.)

The man—the aforementioned Slade, she assumes—spins toward the Hood, pulling his sword free with practiced ease. “One of yours?” he asks.

The Hood meets her eyes for the smallest moment; he has an arrow drawn and pointed at Slade, but the way he watches her, his gaze steady, makes her think he's more worried about her own well-being. Still, Felicity fully expects him to deny that he knows her, but when his focus swings back to Slade, he gives a sharp, decisive nod.

The motion is all Slade needs to spring into action. He raises the sword as he charges forward, and the blade connects with the Hood's shoulder even as a new arrow finds its marks in Slade's chest.

The Hood crumples to the ground, and Felicity jolts forward instinctively. She freezes almost at once, knowing she'll only be in the way, but the motion is enough to draw Slade’s attention. He smiles at her again, a knowing look. “I don't care for liars,” he tells her. “You know perfectly well who this is.”

Any answer Felicity would have drummed up is cut off by the sound of a distant yell. Of course this is when help arrives—it couldn’t have been before, when no one was bleeding at an alarming rate onto a forest floor.

The sounds are enough for Slade. That smile stays firmly in place, and he waits long enough to tell Felicity, “I expect we’ll meet again soon,” before disappearing in the opposite direction of the voice.

Felicity hurries to where the Hood has risen to his knees, a hand on his bow. For an awful moment, she thinks he's going to turn the weapon on her—which, well, is probably something she should have considered before running over to him—but the fear must read on her face because he says in a gruff voice, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She drops to the ground beside him. “Of course you’re not,” she says, with a confidence she doesn't quite feel. “Are you all right? Well, of course you’re not all right. You’ve just been stabbed. You’re bleeding and you need a hospital, and I don’t know if there even _are_ hospitals here, wherever the heck here is, but you need some help at the very least and—”

The Hood tries to stand up then, but he barely makes it to his feet before he begins to sway. Felicity jumps back up, sliding an arm around his waist to keep him upright. “I have to get to—” he begins.

Whatever he's about to say is cut off by the arrival of another newcomer. The look of concern on his face and the Hood’s lack of reaction make Felicity think he must be a friend. She sincerely _hopes_ he's a friend, since she could use one right about now. She shifts her arm to balance the Hood's weight and asks, “Can you help me? He’s really heavy.”


End file.
